Casey vs St Valentine
by Lizzie Foster
Summary: The monotony of day to day life as Chuck's babysitter is beginning to wear on Casey's sanity. The only thing worse than the Buymore is the Buymore on Valentine's day. However, a visitor soon brings a little excitement to John Casey's dull existence.
1. Chapter 1

Casey sighed wearingly as he grudgingly pulled on his green Buymore polo, gazing at his glum reflection in the mirror. He didn't even look like himself anymore. He looked like every other slob instead of a proud member of the United States Military and one of the nation's top spies. He wished he were in a tux at a fancy consulate dinner, wooing the wives of world leaders and chasing bad guys. Instead he was stuck in LA babysitting a dweeb with a computer for a brain.

He drove his black SUV to the Buymore, parking in the same spot he parked in everyday. He got out and walked through the front door, just like he did every morning. He went to the back, clocked in, and then went to his usual spot on the floor. He stood there, looking around at the now familiar shelves filled with all-too-recognizable merchandise and at the well-known faces in Buymore green. He looked at his price scanner and then put it to his temple, pulling the trigger. It beeped annoyingly.

"Morning Casey!" Chuck greeted him cheerfully, walking by. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Casey groaned inwardly and looked around, wondering how he had failed to notice the hideous pink hearts and ugly fat babies with bows and arrows showcased around the Buymore. This must've accounted for his particularly bad mood this morning. Subconsciously he must have remembered it was Valentine's Day, his least favorite day of the year.

A bouquet of red roses paraded through the front doors and marched toward Anna. The bouquet dropped with a flourish to reveal their carrier: the most obnoxious worker at the Buymore, Morgan Grimes. Casey sneered with disgust as Morgan presented the bouquet to Anna, who seemed delighted. He turned away before he had to watch them kiss.

"Don't you love Valentine's Day?" Chuck said later, appearing at Casey's elbow as he stocked the shelves. "Everyone showing they love each other?"

Casey grunted. "I don't see how martyred saints are romantic." He replied shortly.

"I'm sensing a little bitterness here." Chuck said. "Sounds like someone doesn't have a valentine."

Casey pointedly ignored him, stocking the shelves with increased intensity.

"Ellie is having Valentine's Day dinner at our place. Maybe you could scare up a date and come." Chuck suggested. Casey stopped to glare down at him. "Okay, maybe 'scare up' was a poor choice of words." Chuck conceded. "Come on, Kemo Sabe! You can't just sit in your apartment alone on Valentine's Day."

Casey turned to look at him. "Finished?"

"At least think about it." Chuck implored.

"That's what I thought." Casey said, turning and walking away.

"Y'know, John, there's more to life than guns and bonsai!" Chuck called after him. A few customers paused to look at him. "Scanner guns and… plants… Can I help you with anything?"

Casey smiled wryly. At least he had Chuck to act like an idiot and keep things a little more interesting.

He managed to sell a washer and dryer and several small kitchen appliances including a microwave. All in all, it was turning out to be a successful day for him in sales. Not to say he wouldn't rather be putting bullet holes in terrorists, but as long as he had to work in that dump he would at least make the most of it.

A woman walked into the store and began looking through the refrigerators. Morgan began moving towards her but Casey cut him short with a glare.

"Hey, she's all yours, buddy." Grimes said, backing away. Casey forced a grin to his face.

"May I help you?" he asked, disgusted at how pleasant his voice sounded.

"I'm just looking." she replied with a brief smile.

"Nothing says 'I love you' like a new, stainless steel fridge." Casey said matter-of-factly, folding his arms across his chest while his eyes scanned the merchandise.

"I beg your pardon?" the woman asked, giving him an odd look.

"It's Valentine's Day, ma'am." Casey explained, wondering how anyone could have misunderstood his obvious comment. This lady was pretty, but she was an idiot. But in this mission he was used to being surrounded by idiots.

"It is, isn't it?" The woman sighed. "I forgot."

"Not a fan of St. Valentine I take it?" Casey asked, glad that at least one other person shared his dislike of the holiday.

"I prefer to call it Single Awareness Day." She replied. "The one day a year when it's painfully obvious who is single and who isn't."

"I take it you're on the single end of that spectrum."

"See. It's obvious."

"How about you make a huge impulse buy to take your mind off it?" Casey suggested, having to force himself to sound pleasant less and less. "I always feel better after spending a lot of cash."

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "Always the salesman, eh John?"

Casey felt himself grow tense. "How do you know my name?"

The woman tapped his chest with one finger. "Nametag."

Now Casey felt like an idiot. Probably because he worked in a store full of them. It was beginning to rub off on him. But he was also a spy, and being suspicious was in his job description. And he was good at his job.

"Right," he said with a smile. "I keep forgetting. I didn't have a nametag at my last job."

"What was your last job?" the woman asked, casually walking down the line of refrigerators. _Shooting bad guys and saving the country._ He thought bitterly.

"Construction." he replied without missing a beat. She turned her head to look him up and down.

"I certainly don't doubt that." she said. She turned back to examining fridges. "I just moved into a new apartment and I need a new refrigerator. Something compact and durable, classy but affordable. Any suggestions, John?"

"Well," began Casey, launching him into a memorized monologue describing several of the refrigerators. The woman listened, occasionally stopping him to ask questions.

"I think we have a winner." She declared when he was finished, looking one of the fridges up and down. "Small, sturdy, chic and cheap." She turned to look at him. "I'll take it."

Casey half-smiled. "I'll get the paperwork."

When everything was sorted out and paid for, Casey walked the woman to the front of the store.

"Your refrigerator will arrive tomorrow." he said.

"Will you be the one delivering it?" the woman asked.

"No, that's not my job, ma'am." Casey replied. She looked at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Darn."

"Have a nice day, ma'am."

"See you around, John." She turned and left through the automatic sliding doors.

"You could ask _her_ to dinner." Chuck suggested, appearing at Casey's side.

"Don't be an idiot!" Casey replied, walking away. Chuck followed.

"Oh, come on! That girl was all over you! She was practically drooling!"

Casey grunted in reply.

"What could it hurt? If she turns out to be some crazy psycho you can just, y'know, take her down." Chuck continued.

"Even if I wanted to ask her out, which I _don't_, she's already gone. I don't even know her name." Casey replied shortly. Chuck sped up and stood in Casey's path, forcing him to stop. He held up the clipboard with the woman's paperwork.

"Guess who has her name, number, _and_ address?" he said, tipping the clipboard from side to side.

"Hmm." grunted Casey.


	2. Chapter 2

Chuck and Casey sat in the break room during lunch. Chuck was eating his turkey sandwich in silence while Casey's peanut butter and jelly was left untouched as he stared hard at the clipboard in his hands.

"Just call." Chuck said between bites.

"She didn't give me her number herself." Casey replied. "It would be creepy if I called out of the blue."

"C'mon, Casey, she practically invited you over to her apartment." Chuck sighed. "She won't mind if you steal her number from her paperwork and invite her to dinner."

Casey raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, so that does sound slightly stalkerish, but in a few years when you two are married with ten kids no one will care who stalked who!"

"We're _not_ getting married." Casey replied firmly. Chuck took another bite of sandwich, nodding thoughtfully as he chewed.

"Is this about, y'know, _her_?" Chuck asked quietly so no one would overhear.

"What are you talking about, Chuck?" Casey asked with an edge to his voice that dared Chuck continue.

"Ilsa." Chuck replied. "I mean, you were in love with this girl and thought she was dead for four years. Then you find out she's not dead and not really Ilsa at all. Then she waltzes right back in and then out of your life within 72 hours. It's no wonder you're scared to get back into the dating game."

Casey rose quickly to his feet, knocking his chair over.

"I am _not_ scared." he growled.

"That's right, buddy!" Chuck said, standing up and clapping Casey on the shoulder with one hand. "Devon once told me that you got to take the bike out, grease up the chains, and remember how to ride! Provided it was in a different context, but I think the metaphor still applies." Chuck reached over to the table and picked up the clipboard. He glanced down at it. "Hey!" he said excitedly. "It looks like you won't have to call her at all!"

"What do you mean?" Casey asked, setting his chair upright.

"She just moved to a new apartment, right?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

Chuck flipped the clipboard around so Casey could see the front. "Well, guess whose apartment complex she moved in to!"

Casey looked at the address. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Don't you see? It's fate!" Chuck replied. "Now we know it's meant to be. She just _happened_ to come into the store where you work. You just _happened_ to be the salesman to help her. She just _happened_ to move into our apartment complex. That can't be coincidence."

"You're right." Casey said, keeping his voice low. Chuck grinned. "She's probably after the Intersect."

"Are you kidding me?" Chuck whispered angrily. "Not all pretty girls that are interested in us have to have secret agendas and have guns strapped to their legs!"

Casey scoffed. "Sarah, Ilsa, Karina, Jill…" Chuck flinched at the last name. "Face it, Chuck, our track record isn't that great. The women we meet in our line of work may seem pretty and sweet and innocent, but they _always_ have a secret agenda."

"Wow, Casey, way to be a downer." Chuck mumbled, sitting down and resting his chin in his hands.

"I'm just being a realist." Casey replied, sitting down as well and finally picking up his sandwich. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe this is worth looking in to. See what this girl's up to."

Chuck lifted his head from his hands. "Does that mean you'll ask her to dinner?"

Casey grunted. "That means I'll do a little investigating, see if she's a threat."

"Does this investigation involve dinner at my sister's house tonight?" Chuck wheedled. Casey sighed.

"If I think that is the appropriate way to proceed." Casey conceded. Chuck grinned.

"Way to go, Casey!" he replied. Just then Morgan walked up and stood behind Chuck's chair.

"Way to go what?" he asked.

"Casey's got a date." Chuck answered with a knowing nod. Morgan's mouth fell open and his face lit up with surprise.

"With a girl?"

Casey glared at him.

"And what girl wouldn't want a hunk of man-meat like John?" Morgan asked. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"The woman who came in looking for a fridge." Chuck replied. He looked down at the clipboard. "A Ms. Evangeline Brown."

Morgan gaped. "Hey everybody!" he shouted to the break room. "John's got a date with hot refrigerator girl!"

"Would you keep it down?" Casey hissed angrily.

"Dude, this is seriously awesome." Morgan replied. He put his hand forward for a high-five. "Up top, man."

Casey didn't move and Morgan lowered his hand after a few awkward moments.

"He still has to ask her." Chuck explained.

"Don't worry, buddy!" Morgan told Casey reassuringly. "A good-looking guy like you, what girl could resist?"


	3. Chapter 3

Casey's finger involuntarily squeezed the trigger of the scanner gun over and over as he stood in the middle of the floor, staring off into space. He mulled over his options in his mind, trying to figure out the best course of action in regards to the "hot refrigerator girl". She had just moved here, which probably meant she was lonely but also independent. She was also forward, which meant she probably wouldn't be easily embarrassed. However, her clothing had been modest and professional which lead him to conclude that she was reserved in her love life. She wasn't wearing heels so she was practical, but her hair had been down which implied that she liked to have fun. She also had wanted a less-expensive refrigerator, so she was thrifty. He ran the facts over and over in his mind, drawing inferences until he supposed he had the best way to approach her: calmly, rationally, confidently, but expressing genuine interest and not too controlling.

Perhaps it was too soon to ask her to a family-type dinner. It might scare her away. No, he would start smaller and work his way up.

As soon as his shift was over, Casey hurried to his SUV and drove home. Once in his apartment he changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a black button-up shirt. He rolled the sleeves to his elbows and undid the top button of his shirt. He didn't want to look too rigid. He glanced at his reflection as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom.

"You look tired, John." he sighed to himself. He spat out the toothpaste and applied a little bit of cologne. It had been a long time since he'd used any. He only used it in cases like this. He gave his reflection another critical glance. He winked at himself. "Showtime."

According to the information he had gotten from the NSA, she lived in apartment 15 and had no record. However, that didn't prove anything. She could be operating under an alias. If you looked up John Casey the record would come up clean as well. And Casey definitely wasn't clean.

Knocking on the door would be creepy, like he had hunted her down. Instead he would wait for her to notice him. That meant staying out in the open where she would be able to see him coming in or out of her apartment. If he was correct, and he usually was, she would recognize and approach him. That would begin a conversation, which would turn into coffee, which would turn into a subtle investigation to determine if she was a threat to his mission.

He needed to look nonchalant. He decided to wash his car.

"What are you up to?" Chuck asked, leaning against the side of Casey's car as Casey scrubbed the hood.

"Off the Crown Vic." Casey grunted. Chuck moved away. "I'm on an assignment."

"Oh yeah?" Chuck asked. "What's that? Assignment: seduce and interrogate innocent civilian?"

Casey paused for a moment. "Yep, that's about it." he conceded, returning to washing the car.

"That's low, John. Low." Chuck said, shaking his head. John frowned at him.

"Fine. I'm low." He scrubbed his car with renewed intensity.

"Why can't—"

"Because I don't really work at the Buymore, Chuck! Because Sarah isn't really a yogurt girl! Because you're not just another geek! That's why!" Casey growled, trying to keep his voice down. He threw his rag on the ground and soapy water splattered over Chuck's chucks. "Everyday I drag myself out of bed, put on that ugly green shirt, and pretend that everything's fine while people are dying and I can't help them because I'm here babysitting you! And if I have to do something 'low' to protect you, fine."

Chuck didn't answer. He stood there, unable to think of anything to say.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have a hot refrigerator girl to 'accidentally' bump into." John said. Chuck bent down and picked up the soapy rag, handing it back to him. Casey took it and began washing his car again. Chuck started to walk away but stopped, half turning back.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. Casey grunted in reply.


	4. Chapter 4

He was using the hose to rinse the soap off his car.

"John?"

Casey turned and then forced a charming smile. "Hey! What are you doing here? Need help with your refrigerator?"

"I just moved in." Evangeline Brown of apartment 15 replied with a laugh.

"You're kidding." Casey replied, turning off the hose. "I live here."

Evangeline smiled. "Small world." She offered him her hand. "We never were properly introduced, were we? I'm Evan Brown."

Casey wiped his wet hand on his jeans before taking her hand. "John Casey. I guess we're neighbors now."

"I guess so. I'm in apartment 15."

"Apartment 4."

She smiled. "Well, I have some groceries waiting in the car so I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Do you want some help?" John asked. Evan nodded.

"Sure."

Casey carried four reusable grocery bags of groceries into her apartment. It was obvious she had just moved in. Empty boxes were stacked like the leaning tower behind her couch and there were still several boxes waiting to be unpacked.

"You can just set those on the kitchen counter." Evan said. "I don't even have a table yet."

Casey set the groceries down. Although she was not fully unpacked he could already gather a little more information. Like her footwear, her decorating style was practical but fashionable. What furniture she had all matched but was not new. She didn't have a lot of money or she was very good at saving. Everything, however, was in good condition.

"Thanks for your help." she said, walking him to the door.

"Yeah, anytime!" he replied with a smile. He stopped just out of the threshold and turned. He did his best to look slightly awkward. "I know we only met today but I was wondering if you would like to get some coffee; Celebrate Single Awareness Day a little less singly."

She looked behind her into the half-unpacked apartment. "I really should work on getting settled in…"

Mission failed. Casey smiled. "Right. Another time maybe." He started to leave, feeling a little discouraged.

"Sure, let's get coffee. Those boxes aren't going anywhere."

Casey's face lit up. "Great. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about the coffee shop two streets down on the corner?"

"All right." Casey glanced at his watch. "At 5:40? That's in ten minutes."

"Perfect." She smiled and Casey smiled back.

"See you then."

He turned and began walking away as she closed the door.

Mission accomplished.


	5. Chapter 5

Casey arrived at the café first. He seated himself at a table for two near the window and ordered a coffee. Black, no sugar. He removed his light jacket and draped it across the back of his chair, looking at his reflection in the glass of the window and almost didn't recognize himself. He was smiling softly, his body relaxed and casual. He almost exuded warmth and charm.

Casey was a good actor.

What his exterior didn't reveal was his mind working feverishly, pouring over all of the information he had about his mysterious new neighbor. He mulled over the image of her apartment, searching for clues about her, anything that would cause him to doubt her sincerity. She seemed clean, but there was something eating away at the back of his brain.

The refrigerator.

They lived in a nice apartment complex. Refrigerators came standard and if for some reason the one already there needed replacing, the landlord would take care of it. She must have used the refrigerator as an excuse to enter the Buymore without seeming suspicious in order to scout out the Intersect.

And to investigate him, John Casey, the Intersect's bodyguard.

He heard the door open and his eyes flashed towards the sound. It was Evan. She looked like any other patron of the café but then again, they always did. Her eyes scanned the café and she waved when she saw him. She sat in the chair across from him and ordered a tea from a passing waiter.

"Hey." she said with a smile. He smiled back.

"Hey."

"So… How does this usually work?" she asked. "I'm a little rusty."

Casey laughed, still maintaining his casual charade. "I'm certainly not the person to ask. But if _Must Love Dogs_ is anything like real life I would guess that a little flirting would be appropriate." he replied teasingly. She laughed.

"What do you do, John?" she asked, resting her chin on her hand and leaning on the table with her elbow.

"You mean besides selling kitchen appliances to attractive women?" Casey asked. Her face lit up with a smile and her cheeks were touched with a faint blush.

"Yes, besides that."

_Save the world._ "I like motorcycles. Outdoor sports. Anything that gets me outside. You?"

"I read a lot. I work for a publishing company actually." She replied. The waiter came by with her tea and she paused to thank him and take a sip. "I also…" she stopped and laughed shyly. "No, you'll think it's odd."

Casey leaned forward as if he were intrigued. "As long as it's not taxidermy, I think you're okay." He grinned encouragingly. She looked at him from under her eyelashes. Casey almost felt bad for deceiving her. Then he remembered that just as he was playing her she was probably playing him. Trying to get him to slip.

"I… shoot guns." she said finally. Casey raised an eyebrow at her and sat back in his seat with an amused smile.

"That's it? Shooting? That is certainly nothing to be embarrassed about." he replied. "I go to the shooting range myself every now and again. I'm a pretty good shot."

She smiled at him and they both sipped their respective beverages.

They talked for a long time about nothing of importance. Books, sports, movies. If she weren't a possible threat, Casey might have even enjoyed himself.

"Excuse me, but we're closing." A worker said, approaching the table. Casey looked down at his watch. It was already 8:47. They had been there over three hours.

"I didn't realize it had been so long." Evan smiled, standing up and looking out the window at the darkness that had settled over the city.

"Me neither." Casey replied, and he meant it. "Do you… want to walk around for a bit?"

Evan looked like she couldn't think of anything in the world she would rather do.

Casey's heart sank because it was probably all an act, a façade. And he wanted it to be real.

Evan threaded her arm through Casey's as they walked to a nearby park. She sat down on a swing and began swinging. Casey smiled and joined her on the swing set. They spent a few minutes swinging back and forth; the only sounds were the distant traffic, the creak of the swings, and their laughter.

"Why'd you move to L.A.?" Casey asked. He sighed silently. Playtime was over.

"Work." Evan replied nonchalantly. "It's always about work." There was a hint of sadness behind her cheerful exterior. It seemed genuine, but a good actress could replicate the subtle emotion.

"Who do you work for?" Casey pressed, slightly lowering his voice.

"I told you, I work for a publishing house." she laughed.

"Who you really work for?" he continued without hesitation. He was certain now that she was not who she claimed to be. Evan looked unnerved and confused.

"It's late. I should get going." she said, starting to stand. With blazing quickness she pulled a gun from under her coat and pointed it at Casey. However, he too had drawn his weapon. They were at an impasse, both with guns trained on each other.

Evan's façade was gone. She smiled wryly.

"Nice work, Agent Casey." she said, turning the safety of her gun back on and putting it back under her jacket. "They told me you were good but… I am thoroughly impressed."

"Who do you work for?" Casey repeated, unwilling to put his own gun down.

"Relax, agent, we're on the same side." Even replied, pulling her flirty curls into a ponytail. She reached into her coat and Casey raised his gun higher. "I'm just getting my badge." She assured him.

"Slowly." he ordered. Her hand slid into her jacket and pulled out a black badge. She flipped it open and held it out so Casey could examine it.

"CIA?" he asked. Agent Brown nodded.

"That's right. I'm one of the good guys." She said.

"Then why are you here?" Casey pressed, his eyes narrowing. Agent Brown smirked.

"NSA thought you might be getting a little too comfortable in this cushy assignment." She replied. Casey growled. Brown continued: "They asked the CIA to send an agent over to make sure you were still sharp. Clearly," she looked Casey up and down, "you are."

Finally, hesitantly, Casey lowered his gun and tucked it securely back into his shoulder holster.

"Now what?" he asked. "We just… go back to normal?"

Agent Brown laughed ruefully. "What's normal?"

Casey shrugged.

"I felt pretty normal tonight." Evan said. "It was nice to go out, even if it was a mission."

"It was." Casey agreed. She smiled at him.

"How about we finish our date?" she asked. "My report can wait until tomorrow."

Casey hesitated. For all he knew this was all a trick, a ploy to get the Intersect. He should handcuff Agent Brown and take her back to Castle until he could confirm her story. He should be Agent Casey.

But Agent Casey could wait until tomorrow. For now he could be John.


End file.
